Poems By Anna Akhmatova

He loved three things alone:
White peacocks, evensong,
Old maps of America.
He hated children crying,
And raspberry jam with his tea,
And womanish hysteria.
...And he had married me.

-1911
from Evening

'Today they brought no letter'

Today they brought no letter for me:
he forgot to write or maybe he went away;
spring like a trill of silver laughter,
the boats bobbing in the bay.
Today they brought no letter for me...

He was with me such a short time ago,
so in love, tender, mine,
but that was in white winter,
now it's spring, and spring's melancholy is poison.
He was with me such a short time ago.

I hear: a light, trembling fiddle-bow
is beating, beating in agony before death,
and I fear my heart will burst.
I will not finish these tender lines...

'Everything promised him to me'

Everything promised him to me:
the faded, red horizon,
a sweet dream on Christmas eve,
the bell-chimes carried on the wind at Easter,

the elegant willow switches,
waterfalls in the park,
two large dragonflies
on the rusty iron railings.

As I walked along the hot, stone
path over the hills
I could not but believe
that he would be friends with me.

Poems By Miriam Kates (me)

A Remembrance (for my mother on her death day, 12/7/02)

Do I see her face in the flicker of a lonely flame?
It's the kind of face one takes for granted,
the kind of face one sees every day.
Until it changes (so thin).
Until it fades.

Do I hear her voice calling my name?
It's the kind of voice one takes for granted,
the kind of voice one hears from the first day.
Until it changes (so thick).
Until it fades.

Will life without her never be the same?
It's the kind of life one takes for granted,
the kind of life people dream of by day.
Until it changes (so empty).
Until it fades.

I don't think love should be red.
Love is not a fire that destroys
 all of its resources
And suffocates itself
 with its own flames.
Love can be sustaining like water,
 solid like the earth,
 as light as the air.
Let red be lust,
 burning itself out through sweat
 and tears.
I think love should be green,
 full of the promise of growing things.
Let love build on itself,
 layer upon gauzy layer
Until it is deeper than the heart
 alone can bear.

And to think I've been through all this before.
This one I love.
Mother said "be careful" when I told her of getting birth control.
This one I need.
I wasn't careful, but pain was contraceptive enough.
This one I love.
And all I could think was "I've failed again."
I'm sorry and I love you.
Again.
I love you and I'm sorry.

[It's been a month]

I can survive a day, a weekend without seeing him
But I don't want to.
The time peppered with desires
his eyes
his warmth
his face
I can't concentrate.
"I won't see him today" becomes my mantra,
but I will him out of his house
I will him into my arms.
"I won't see him today"
I had thought our connection stronger
"I won't see him today"
I imagine him working,
curled up on my floor,
carpet fuzz sticking to his clothes,
carefully copying chinese characters into his rice-paper book.
I wonder if he's learned to say "I love you" in Chinese.
"I won't see him today"
I want to show him my paper cranes
I want to show him my wounds from burning candles in the wind.
I want him to sing his song for me again,
without the cars and the cold and the wind tearing his words away.
I want to read him the next chapter of my book,
to feel his head on my thigh,
enraptured by the sound of my voice.
I want
I want
"I won't see him today"
I love

Sometimes I don't recognize the creature he becomes in the dark
And like Psyche I wish to draw the candle close
But I am mindful of the wax

all works by Miriam Kates copyrighted by Miriam Kates 1997-2004